Flying (20 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“Girrrrrl! You look so good!” Jen waggled her eyebrows up and down and made Stella turn in a circle. “Feels like it’s been forever since I saw you. How’s tricks?”

“Good, good. You look good too. I like your skirt, totally cute.” Stella impulsively hugged the other woman, whom she hadn’t seen in weeks. Jen had quit to take a job at an art gallery in downtown Harrisburg, and now that they no longer worked together, it had been harder for them to get together.

“So, how is it back in the old place?” Jen helped herself to a bread stick. She gave Stella a small grin. “Miss me?”

“Oh, hell yes. You thought it was quiet before? Now it’s like working in a graveyard.” Stella shrugged and took a bread stick for herself. “I shouldn’t eat this.”

“Yes, you should.”

Stella laughed. “I’ve been eating way too much lately, that’s all. And not working out.”

“Working out, gross.” Jen laughed, and gave Stella a knowing look. “He’s a good cook?”

“Oh, no. But he likes to eat out—in restaurants!” Stella shook her head before Jen could say anything. “Perv.”

“I bet he likes to do the other thing too.”

He did indeed. Thinking of it now, Stella flushed. It had been a long week and a half since they’d seen each other, and she was looking forward to heading to Chicago tomorrow.

“So it’s going well?”

“Yes. I almost hate to say anything, so I don’t jinx it.”

“Long-distance stuff can be hard,” Jen said.

Stella nodded. “Yeah. But it’s easier than it used to be, I think. I mean, we talk every day. Video-chat, stuff like that. Can you imagine what it was like before the internet and cell phones? I had a boyfriend in college. Over the summer I was lucky if I got to talk to him once a week or got a letter in the mail.”

“I had a boyfriend like that.” Jen waved the bread stick. “Found out he was banging some skank when he sent me the wrong letter.”

Stella made a face. “Ouch.”

“Not that I think you should worry about that,” Jen said hastily.

Stella laughed. “I’m not. I mean, we haven’t talked about being exclusive or anything. We didn’t get that serious about it.”

They hadn’t had to. Between Caroline and the girls and the time he spent with Stella, it would’ve been unlikely for Matthew to be tomcatting around, and Stella hadn’t ever told him about her previous flying turnarounds. They’d fallen into their relationship like old friends falling into step along a path leading to... Well, she had no idea what lay around the bend, but she was willing to find out.

“You get all dreamy-eyed when you think about him. Looks kind of serious to me,” Jen said.

“I like him.”

“And he’s your boyyyfriend,” Jen teased. “Thought you didn’t want one of those pesky things.”

Stella chewed the inside of her cheek for a second. “I didn’t. But it happened. And it’s perfect, really. We see each other when we can, but we can’t possibly see each other all the time, so we each get our own space without having to fight for it, you know what I mean? We talk all the time, but we can be doing other things too. He’s got his life, I have mine, and so far we don’t have to really make a lot of changes to either of them.”

“But...don’t you miss him when you’re not with him? Don’t you hate not being able to just see him whenever you want?”

“Sure. I miss him.” More than she wanted to admit, actually. “But it is what it is, and what can I do about it right now? He’s got young kids, so he’s not going to move here, and I won’t move anywhere until Tristan’s in college, at least, so that’s another couple years.”

“But you’ve thought about it!” Jen seemed tickled by this, leaning over the table. “You have, I see it on your face.”

“Well, sure, I’ve thought about it,” Stella said. “We haven’t talked about it or anything, but, yeah. I think about it.”

Jen leaned back in her chair with a smug grin. “I knew you’d want a boyfriend sooner or later.”

“Pffft.” Stella rolled her eyes, but laughed along with her.

The conversation turned to other things. Jen’s relationship, for one, which was also getting serious. The art show opening on Sunday at the gallery. Jen had some pieces in the show, and she wanted Stella to come and bring Matthew.

“I’m going out to Chicago this weekend, damn. How long will they be in the show?”

“Couple weeks. Maybe next weekend,” Jen said.

“We only see each other every other weekend,” Stella explained.

“Ah. Well...bring him the weekend after next. It’ll be the last weekend of the show.”

“Oh...well, he’d have to come out here, then.”

“That’s kind of the point,” Jen said. “You mean he’s never flown out here any of these times?”

“I get free travel, remember?” Stella said. “Courtesy of Pegasus Airlines. It’s the one thing I fought Jeff to keep. So, no, Matthew’s never come here. How could I ask him to spend that kind of money for a weekend, when I can just as easily go out there? And Chicago has a lot more going for it than good old Lebanon, PA.”

“Amish country,” Jen said with a snap. “Or you could bring him up here to Harrisburg. Show him the sights.”

They both burst into laughter at that—Harrisburg was the state capital and a city, but a small one with not much to see. Still, it would’ve been nice to go to the gallery show with Matthew. Show him off to her friends.

“I’ll ask him,” she said.

* * *

Back at work, Stella settled into her chair and pulled up her queue. Today she had only a handful of photos to work on, each requiring some detailed work but not much. By two o’clock she was finished. She thought about clocking out early, but honestly didn’t want to lose the hours, and besides, more work could come in if she left, and it would pile up. Since tomorrow was Friday and she wouldn’t be in, there was the potential to come in Monday to a shit-ton of zits and wrinkles and saggy chins, something she’d rather not have to face while still coming off the Matthew high.

Instead, she did something she hadn’t done in ages. She opened up her instant message window. Back when she’d first started, she’d had her IM open all the time to keep in touch with Jen and the couple other coworkers she’d liked, as well as a few online friends.

She hadn’t been thinking of Craig when she clicked open the program, though his user name was still in her contacts list. It was kind of like a time machine when she saw the names, some of them she’d forgotten ever knowing. It took her back to those days in the coffee shop, the hours she’d spent looking for work and chatting online with strangers. The hours she’d spent chatting with him.

And there he was.

Hi!

The message icon bounced with his name until she clicked on the message window.

Hi,
she typed.
How are you?

She hadn’t heard from him since their disastrous date. She’d half expected him to call her, but he hadn’t, and she was relieved. And then things had started heating up with Matthew and she’d shut Craig out of her mind almost totally. Until now.

Good. Busy at work. Saw your name pop up and took a chance on saying hello.

Stella typed,
Glad you did.

She meant it, she realized. Sure, things with them had been weird and awkward, and she supposed there would always be some residual emotional tie between them—how could there not be? But though she’d been angry at him for a long time, she wasn’t anymore.

He sent her a smiley face without words. Then, a few minutes later as she toyed with fixing a shadow on a picture that the client hadn’t ordered just so she could practice and also look as if she was keeping busy, the IM window bounced again. Craig again.

So, two chips were on the playground, and one chip punched the other one in the face.

Stella paused in what she was doing, watching the little pencil icon blink in the box, telling her Craig was still typing. It was a joke. He’d always been able to make her laugh.

I’m NACHO friend! the chip said.

Stella burst into stifled laughter, but he wasn’t finished.

That’s not fair, the other chip cried. Can’t we TACO ‘bout it?

Funny,
she typed.

Glad we had the chance to chat. Got to go, talk to you another time?

Yes,
she answered, but he’d already signed off.

The joke kept making her laugh, so much that she sent it to Matthew. It was his night to have the girls, so she didn’t expect an answer until after they went to bed, but when hours passed and she was getting ready for bed herself, he still hadn’t replied.

“I hate it when you don’t answer me,” Stella said aloud to her phone.

Her house was silent. Tristan had gone to his dad’s house tonight because he didn’t have school the next day and Jeff had promised to take him for his driver’s license, finally. She’d thought about asking them to wait for her. It seemed like something they should do together, something she wanted to be a part of, anyway. But they weren’t a family anymore, and Tristan had been so excited at the prospect of getting his license that she hadn’t been able to bring herself to be so selfish as to deny him that just because she wanted to go see Matthew.

And she would see him, tomorrow afternoon. Heat washed over her, as it always did. In her bed, Stella stretched out, almost too wired for sleep. She didn’t have to get up superearly, and it wasn’t even late.

The house was too quiet.

She sat up, considering pulling out her book to read a chapter. Or going downstairs to her computer and surfing the internet for a while. Maybe even watching a movie. But all of that stuff smacked of effort, and though she wasn’t quite tired enough for sleep, she wasn’t awake enough for any of that other stuff.

She was lonely, Stella thought. And bored. With a frown, she burrowed into her pillows and forced her eyes to close. Other nights she’d have been yawning her way through a conversation with Matthew that stretched on too late, wrecking her for the morning. But on the night she could’ve easily spent an hour chatting with him, he was nowhere to be found.

His girls were in bed by now, tucked into the cute twin beds in the room he hadn’t had to tell her Caroline had helped decorate. His apartment was only two bedrooms, so they shared a room while in their mother’s house they each had their own bedrooms. The house he’d shared with her. Stella hadn’t met Matthew’s daughters or his ex-wife yet, but she’d seen plenty of pictures on his phone. She pictured the house they’d shared in the suburbs pretty much the way Caroline looked—sort of bland, everything matching. Decorative balls on the coffee tables. That sort of thing. Matthew’s apartment, in comparison, was still so bare of anything but the most basic of furniture and decor that if Stella hadn’t known he’d lived there for almost two years, she’d have thought he’d just moved in.

She checked her phone, but there was no message. She’d see him tomorrow, she reminded herself. There’d be time enough for conversation then. If they bothered to talk, she thought with a small smile, already imagining all the ways they’d use their mouths for other things.

And then, just before she drifted into sleep, came the ping.

GNS.

GNM
, she replied and got no reply, but this time it didn’t bother her as much because a good-night from him was what she’d been waiting for. Now she could sleep. Now she could dream.

But she didn’t dream of him.

* * *

“Maybe you’d just be happier if I moved out.” This is Jeff, mouth twisted. Arms crossed. He looks mad enough to punch a hole in the wall, and she wouldn’t be surprised if he did. He has before.

They’ve been arguing about laundry. Something stupid. He tossed his filthy clothes into the basket without paying attention, ruining the clean clothes Stella hasn’t mustered the energy to put away.

“Yes. That’s what I want.” She imagined herself shouting the words, but they whisper out. Defeated. She looks him in the eye when she answers, though. “Yes. Go. Please.”

“Why? You have someone lined up to take my place already?”

Guilt should stab her, but she refuses to let it. Stella lifts her chin. “No. That’s not what this is about.”

She could ask the same of him, after all. She knows that when he stays out late and comes home smelling of smoke and perfume, it’s very likely her husband has been fooling around, if not outright fucking other women. It’s been months since they had sex, and the last time was horrific. Jeff turned from her scars and lost his erection, and Stella stumbled to the bathroom to dry-heave with grief.

“Then what?” he demands.

“I don’t love you anymore.” There. She’s said it out loud, what she’s been thinking for close to a year. “I don’t want to be married to you. I want you to move out. I want a divorce.”

The truth of what her husband feels for her is evident in the way he doesn’t sag or protest or try to change her mind. Jeff only nods. Once, sharply. They stare at each other across the laundry, and Stella knows she will never be able to forget this moment.

And later, weeks later, when she is tired and sad and the house is quiet because Jeff has taken Tristan for the night, she stumbles down the hall and sits outside the closed bedroom door she’s been unable to open. She puts her hand on the knob but does not turn it. And then she dials Craig, whispering fiercely for him to meet her somewhere. Anywhere. Just meet her so they can talk.

The rain started before she got in the car, and it makes her late. It’s normal rain, not icy, nothing that needs anything more than normal precaution, but in this state of mind, she can’t deal with it. She pulls into the parking lot of the diner where they agreed to meet twenty minutes later than she said she’d be, expecting him not to be there.

But he’s there.

And instead of eggs and hash browns, which is what she thought she wanted, even instead of pie and coffee, Stella sits in the front seat of Craig’s car and shakes. And shakes. And shakes.

“I lost him,” she says over and over again, unable to explain that she doesn’t mean Jeff.

She means her boy.

Her Gage. Her firstborn, her mini-me. She lost him, and nothing that has come after could possibly compare to this pain she can’t bring herself to share.